


Adventures of the Rookie Detectives

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Follow the North Star [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6416359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It technically starts when Fitzy comes out halfway through his first season with the North Stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inaugural Rookie Detection Classes

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a tremendously generous Kickstarter backer who requested the rookie detectives. And lo, there shall be detection of the rookie kind.

Roman starts it, in what Devon is pretty fucking sure is abuse of his rookie mentoring powers. Devon decides he should blame Roman, because it seems like a dick move to blame Fitzy for it, considering he’s the victim of a bunch of rookie stalking. Though he seems to be amused by it, at least, which is probably good, otherwise Devon bets there’d be some workplace harassment seminar in everyone’s future. Though who fucking knows if the kids are keeping it at the workplace. Devon doesn’t know. Devon does not want to know. Devon wants plausible deniability.

So Devon’s not blaming Fitzy, he wants to be clear, but Fitzy being secretive for once in his life is what gets Roman on it like a dog on a bone. It’s weird, because Fitzy isn’t really the kind of guy that won’t talk about shit. It’d be one thing if he was hiding having a boyfriend at all, Devon would get that. The North Stars are all fine with it, at least to Fitzy’s face, in Devon’s presence. If it bugs someone, no one’s saying anything, but it’s not like Fitzy had that guarantee. Fitzy isn’t hiding that at all, but no one knows who that boyfriend is or pretty much anything about him, which is downright weird, in Devon’s opinion, because Fitzy is shit at keeping a secret, you can read pretty much anything on his face. You still can, technically. If you ask, he gets this look like he’s smug as shit that he’s managing to keep a secret for once. 

Devon thinks it’s funny, but it drives some of the guys mental, he guesses, because suddenly they’re poking rookies into dumb ass surveillance like a stupid frat prank or something. Devon guesses it isn’t any worse than when he had to dress up as one of the Sailor Moon chicks for Halloween — he was the green one, which was his sister’s favourite when she was a kid, and to this day he has no idea where the Lightning vets found costumes big enough — but when he was a rookie, sure as shit no one would be making the rookies try to find out a player’s secret boyfriend. Though Devon guesses every boyfriend was secret back then, because no one had come out yet. 

Michaela rolls her eyes when he tells her about it. “You’re all overgrown children,” she says. “Let the guy have his privacy.”

“Hey, I’m not doing shit,” Devon protests. “I saw Connelly wearing a trench coat to practice, though, I think that kid’s getting too into the role.”

“Morons,” she says fondly. 

*

It technically starts when Fitzy comes out halfway through his first season with the North Stars. Devon doesn’t know if Fitzy’s decided he can trust the guys by then, or if it’s just that no one’s ever asked anything that Fitzy can answer with ‘Nah, I have a boyfriend.’, which he does when Samberg asks him if he hasn’t picked up because he’s got a girlfriend, since at least three girls were up for it with him in Winnipeg, and might have actually _all_ been up for it, if you know what he means.

If Devon had thought of the kind of person Fitzy would date — which he hadn’t, because he doesn’t exactly think about his teammates’ love lives in his spare time, he has better things to do — he would have figured some tiny girl, as bubbly and talkative as he was. Devon doesn’t think he’s ever met a dude as bubbly as Fitzy, the kind of bubbliness that can grate, especially at six in the fucking morning, but he’s met plenty of girls like that. Hell, it seems like half of his sister’s friends were like the female version of Liam, and Michaela’s little sister reminds him more of Fitzy than anyone he’s ever met. So he would have figured that, he guesses. 

“How the hell does your boyfriend stand you?” Emmanuel groans when Fitzy won’t shut up on a red eye. Devon thinks it’s a good question. “He got cocaine in his veins like you or something?”

“It’s sugar, thank you,” Fitzy says, then, “Nah, he’s a grump.”

“You’d make anyone grumpy,” Findlay mutters, and any chance of sleep is completely demolished when Fitzy lets out an offended squawk and starts pelting Findlay — and Devon, who unfortunately is sitting beside him — with everything he can grab.

That’s about all Fitzy will say about the dude, though. Devon’s not asking — Devon honestly doesn’t give two shits, and it’s not the gay thing, he’s not going around asking Findlay where his wife went to school or where Serrano met his girlfriend or anything. But Roman’s always in everyone’s business, he likes that shit. It’s why they made him the rookie handler, because he’s more likely than anyone to know if one of the kids let the pressure get to them, aren’t adjusting so well. So of course Roman starts badgering Fitzy, and apparently gets the lone piece of info that the dude lives in town before Fitzy clams up.

“That’s weird,” Roman says. “I don’t think Fitzy’s ever been secretive about anything in his life.”

“Who cares, Roman,” Devon says. “Seriously.”

“What if it’s something sketch,” Roman says. “Like. What if he’s a dick or something. What if Fitzy’s in distress.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Findlay says, which was apparently an understatement, because that road trip, the rookie detectives — or, excuse Devon, The Rookie Detectives, because Roman made fucking badges, he needs a girlfriend, fuck — are born.


	2. Harry Chalmers: Rookie Detective; Codename: Spoilsport

First things first: Harry is not a rookie, and he should not be involved in this bullshit. Like technically it’s his first year in the NHL, yeah, sure he’s a rookie by technicality, but he’s twenty-three years old. He thinks being legal to drink means you are too old for the ridiculousness that is badges and secret meetings and Roman on a power trip.

It starts on one of those road trips where by the end of it you want to strangle every single guy within strangling distance and then hug your dog, who’s missed you so very much. Harry had plenty of those in the A, he’s used to them by now, but the rookies all go a little nuts by the end of them, a weird mix between hyped up and tired which means the vets would strangle them first.

“Secret meeting,” Connelly tells him in a whisper during breakfast in Florida, then darts over to tell Victor. 

“The fuck,” Harry mutters. You can’t just say secret meeting and then not give a time or a location. Frankly you should not be saying secret meeting in the first place if you are a grown ass man, but Connelly’s nineteen, so Harry guesses he isn’t one yet.

Connelly eyeballs him hard after he continues on his eggs, which Harry guesses means the secret meeting is now. He continues eating until Connelly looks like he’s starting in on the strangling thoughts, then figures he should go with the madman.

Connelly looks shifty as Harry and Victor follow him to the elevator, herds them towards a room on the floor they’re all on, where Roman and Asenov are sitting on a bed. Presumably Roman’s bed, considering it’s a king and Harry shares a room with Novy. 

“Good, good,” Roman says. “That’s everyone. Sit.”

Connelly and Victor obediently sit on the bed, while Harry takes the desk chair. 

“Rookies,” Roman says, and Harry internally sighs. “Have you heard about Fitzy’s boyfriend?”

Harry externally sighs. “My sister’s gay, so if this is some homophobic—” Harry starts.

Roman looks offended. Not even just offended. Roman looks appalled. “This is for Fitzy!” Roman says. 

“What’s for Fitzy?” Harry asks. He’ll regret the question very soon.

“So you know how Fitzy never shuts the fuck up about anything?” Roman asks.

They’re all well aware Fitzy never shuts the fuck up about anything. He’s frequently at the top of Harry’s dreamy strangling list. 

“Here are the things we know about Fitzy’s boyfriend,” Roman says. “A) he’s a dude.”

“Good detective work,” Harry mutters, and for some reason Roman beams at him. 

Harry will know why later, sadly.

“B) he’s apparently a grump,” Roman says.

Harry can’t imagine why. Harry just needs a few days before Fitzy can grate — Harry likes him and all, but he can grate. Fitzy’s boyfriend has to spend his _life_ with him.

“C) that’s it,” Roman says. “That’s all we know. That he’s a grumpy dude.”

“Okay?” Victor says. “So?”

“So when has Fitzy ever been secretive?” Roman asks.

Connelly puts his hand up like the giant teacher’s pet he is. “Never,” he says.

“Exactly,” Roman says. “Never.”

“So?” Victor repeats.

“So why would Fitzy keep a secret this time?” Roman asks. 

Connelly raises his hand again. “Maybe he’s private about his personal life?” he ventures.

Roman scoffs, and Connelly immediately sags, dispirited.

“Alternate theory,” Roman says. “Fitzy’s in distress.”

“Fitzy doesn’t look distressed to me,” Harry says. “Like. Ever.”

“That’s the point!” Roman says. “How would we know? We’d know if he acted unusually, which is what he’s doing!”

“So what’s the plan, Roman?” Connelly asks.

“I’m glad you asked, Connie,” Roman says, and Connelly beams. He’s got a dude crush on Roman the size of the fucking sun, and it kind of hurts to watch, honestly. “We, my dear rookies, are going to do some detective work. We are going to find out who Fitzy’s boyfriend is, and then we are going to vet him.”

Novy’s been listening quietly, wide-eyed. He shoots Harry a helpless look, like ‘I don’t understand what’s going on, please explain later’. Harry thinks Asenov would be better off not getting any explanation. It’d probably make more sense that way.

“Nope,” Harry says. “Not happening.”

“I don’t think I said this was optional, Chalmers,” Roman snaps, and Novy’s eyes get wider. “Now here are your badges,” Roman says, back to cheerful. “You can’t wear them, because discretion is important, but you know. Badges!”

He hands out badges, reading Rookie Detective in cramped, tight green lettering on a gold background.

“Nice badges, Roman,” Connelly says.

“Oh my god, Connelly, seriously dude,” Victor says, and Connelly goes pink and quiet.

“So here’s the plan,” Roman says, and Harry blows out an exasperated breath but decides to listen, because like — Roman’s a generally chill dude, but he’s also now rocking the status of ‘frequent offender’ to league brass, so maybe it’s best to humor the crazy dude with a reputation for kneecapping dudes. Just maybe.

“I didn’t understand anything,” Novy tells him quietly when they’re walking back to their room to get their shit for practice, because Roman assigned everyone roles and it took so fucking long they’re all running late.

“Don’t worry, Novy,” Harry says. “I didn’t either.”


	3. Valeri Asenov: Rookie Detective; Codename: Sweet Child o' Mine

Valeri doesn’t understand what’s happening. Chalmers says not to worry about it, but Valeri’s worrying.

He’s given a pin in team colors that has two words that don’t make sense together, Novák says a lot of things very quickly that don’t make sense together, Chalmers is grumpy now, and Valeri has no idea what any of it meant.

“Just use your big eyes,” Novák tells him, and, once again, Valeri doesn’t know what he means.

Chalmers just keeps telling him it’s not important and ignoring any further questions Valeri has. Sometimes he is a truly terrible roommate. Mostly it’s because he takes too long in the bathroom and sets his alarm too early so he can hit the snooze button, but Valeri’s adding this to the list. Valeri goes to find Connelly, because Connelly’s nice and helpful, and Valeri’s sure he’ll explain.

“Fitzgerald has a boyfriend,” Connelly tells him.

“I understood,” Valeri says.

“Roman wants you to talk to Fitzy about his boyfriend,” Connelly says.

“Why?” Valeri asks.

“Because Roman thinks he might be an asshole,” Connelly says.

“Why this?” Valeri asks, pulling the pin out of his pocket.

“Put that away!” Connelly hisses, and Valeri quickly puts it back in his pocket. “It’s to make it fun, I think,” Connelly says, then, “I think they look nice, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Valeri says. “Nice.”

*

“Have you asked Fitzy?” Novák asks that night.

“No,” Valeri says. 

*

“Have you asked Fitzy?” Novák asks the next morning.

“No?” Valeri says.

*

“Have you—” Roman greets him.

“I will ask!” Valeri says, throwing his hands up and walking in the other direction.

*

Some of the team goes out that night, and even though Valeri isn’t old enough to drink yet, he thinks it’s the best time to ask Fitzgerald about his boyfriend. Fitzgerald will presumably be drinking, which should help. He’s not particularly looking forward to asking, but he also isn’t looking forward to Novák tailing him every day, so it’s time to, as they say ‘man up’.

Valeri is, after all, a man.

“You are adorable,” Fitzgerald tells him. “Has anyone ever told you you’re adorable?”

Valeri blinks rapidly. They’ve only been there for the space of two drinks — Valeri’s just having orange juice, which stopped the bartender from giving him suspicious looks, at least — so he doesn’t think Fitzgerald can be drunk yet, even if he’s small. But Fitzgerald says a lot of ridiculous things. He shouldn’t be surprised by now.

“Does your boyfriend like hockey?” Valeri blurts out, because it’s the first question he can think of.

Valeri doesn’t think it’s a particularly funny question, but Fitzgerald laughs. 

“No,” Fitzy says. “Not really.”

“Oh,” Valeri says. “Too bad.”

*

“Well obviously something’s very wrong with him if he doesn’t like hockey,” Novák says when Valeri tells him about the conversation. Connelly appeared right behind Novák as soon as Valeri found him. Valeri has no idea where he came from. People who are that tall should not be able to hide so effectively. “What else did you get?”

“Get?” Valeri asks.

“What else did Fitzy tell you?” Connelly asks.

“Oh,” Valeri asks. “I did not ask anything else.”

“What?” Novák asks. “ _Why_?”

“It seemed rude,” Valeri says.

Novák bangs his head against Connelly’s shoulder, which seems unnecessarily dramatic to Valeri. “It seemed rude,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Valeri says. “His boyfriend is not my business.”

“But it _is_ ,” Roman says. “It was your mission! You were reconnaissance for a reason!”

“What,” Valeri says.

“I’ll explain later,” Connelly says while patting Novák’s shoulder.

“You had the face,” Novák says. “You had the _face_ , Val.”

“What face?” Valeri asks, frustrated now.

“Later!” Connelly says. 

“No,” Valeri says. “Now.”

“Such a sweet face,” Novák whimpers, and Connelly frowns.

“He thought Fitzy would tell you things,” Connelly says. “Because you look…”

“So sweet,” Novák says, and Connelly frowns even deeper. It’s odd to see it on his face. Like Fitzgerald, he always seems to be smiling.

Valeri frowns. “I don’t have sweet face,” he argues.

“You do,” Novák moans. “And you squandered your appearance of innocence. Squandered it.”

Valeri looks to Connelly.

“He’s just being dramatic now,” Connelly says.

“Et tu, Evan?” Novák asks. “Et tu?”

“Moi aussi, Roman,” Connelly says, and then beams when Novák laughs.

Valeri doesn’t understand anything. Well, he understood Connelly’s terrible French joke, but other than that, nothing. He understands nothing.

“Americans are crazy,” he decides.

“Hey, I’m Canadian!” Connelly says, then frowns. “I mean. Yes. You are right, and as a Canadian, I am…not crazy.”

“Crazy,” Valeri repeats firmly.

“Well,” Novák says. “You got me there.”

*

“Roman’s reassigned me to information gathering,” Connelly says the next day. “So you don’t have to worry.”

“What,” Valeri says.

“But he says you have to be recordkeeper,” Connelly says. “You know, write all the information.”

“I can’t write in English,” Valeri says.

“That’s the point!” Connelly says. “You can write it in Russian! Even if Fitzy finds it, he won’t be able to read it!”

“No one can read it,” Valeri points out.

“Well,” Connelly says. “That’s a minor complication.”

“This is so stupid,” Valeri says.

“I don’t like that attitude, Asenov,” Connelly says.

Valeri narrows his eyes at him.

“But that’s okay!” Connelly says. “We can definitely find you a job!”

“I don’t want a job,” Valeri argues.

“That’s too bad,” Connelly says cheerfully. “Rookies have to stick together.”

*

“Everyone has gone insane,” Valeri tells Michaels. As captain, Valeri thinks he should know.

“Roman?” Michaels asks with a grimace. 

“Yes,” Valeri says.

Michaels claps him on the shoulder. “Sorry, buddy, part of being a rookie.”

“Everyone being insane?” Valeri asks.

“Yup,” Michaels says. “Anything else up, Novy?”

Valeri deflates. “No,” he says. “Nothing else.”


	4. Victor Kjeldsen: Rookie Detective; Codename: Spider

_Three Months Later:_

“Rookie Detectives call to order Meeting Seven,” Roman announces, once everyone’s adopted their usual positions in his hotel room. “Roll call.”

“All present but Novy, Roman,” Evan supplies, like it isn’t obvious. They’re four dudes in a room, not forty.

“Season’s wrapping up,” Roman says. “Status check before we shut things down until October.”

“We still have the playoffs, Roman,” Evan chirps.

“No space for distractions during playoffs, kiddo,” Roman says, and Evan deflates so visibly Victor can’t help but feel for the dude.

“So,” Roman says. “Review of the notes?”

“Um,” Evan says, tentative now. “Novy was sent down, Roman.”

“So?” Roman says. “He take his notes with him?”

“No,” Evan says. “I have them.”

“So?” Roman repeats.

“They’re in Russian,” Evan says. “Remember? So Fitzy couldn’t read them.”

“Fuck, whose stupid idea was that?” Roman asks, then, “It was mine, wasn’t it?”

Evan doesn’t move a muscle, which means yes.

“Yes,” Victor confirms on his behalf.

“Okay,” Roman says. “What do we know?”

Harry shrugs sullenly, Evan remains tremulously still, and finally Roman turns his gaze on Victor.

“I tailed Liam home last week,” Victor says. “So we’ve got his base of operations.”

“What the fuck, Kjeldsen,” Roman says.

“What?” Victor says. “You want info, I was trying to get info.”

“New rule,” Roman says. “If it’s illegal, don’t do it.”

Victor doesn’t think just following Liam is illegal. Roman’s so dramatic.

“Says the guy committing assault on the ice every game,” Harry says under his breath.

“What was that, Chalmers?” Roman asks.

“Nothing,” Harry says quickly.

“You’re all a disappointment, get out of here,” Roman says.

*

“I have a plan,” Victor says.

“Pray tell, Victor,” Harry says, accompanied by a violent eye roll. Victor has no idea how someone can roll their eyes that much without doing permanent damage.

*

The bushes in Fitzy’s backyard are not particularly comfortable. Unsurprising, but Victor has a feeling they’d be a far sight more if he didn’t have two dead-weights with him. He shouldn’t have told them. Evan looked so distraught after Roman called them disappointments, and Victor was curious if Harry would even go along with it, but that’s no excuse. He miscalculated.

“This is so illegal,” Evan keeps saying under his breath, a repetitive, increasingly annoying mantra.

“Evan, shut the fuck up before you get us caught and I tell your precious Roman you blew it,” Harry hisses.

For someone who’s insisted for months he’s too good for this, Harry’s pretty into it.

“I don’t even know why you’re here,” Evan retorts. “There’s a reason Roman gave you the codename Spoilsport.”

“There a reason he named you Sweetheart, sweetheart?” Harry drawls.

“Shh, someone’s in the window,” Victor says, and makes sure to start snapping pictures, before he lowers his phone in disappointment. “It’s just some old dude.”

“Fitzy’s dad, maybe?” Harry asks.

“Nah, he’s like forty-ish,” Victor says. “He’s at the sink, so plumber or some shit?”

“You think Fitzy’s letting a plumber walk around his house when he’s not home?” Harry asks. He’s got a point, there. 

“Maybe Fitzy just has an older boyfriend,” Evan pipes up. “It’d be what, ten, fifteen years difference?”

Victor and Harry both give him looks.

“It’s not that weird,” Evan says defensively.

“Jesus Connie, you get on Roman’s jock any harder you’re going to chafe his dick,” Harry says, and Evan goes bright red and stares at the dirt.

“Guys,” Victor hisses.

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Sorry Connie.”

“No,” Victor says. “He’s looking right at us.”

“You think he can see us?” Harry says. 

“Yeah,” Victor says. 

“So—” Harry says.

“Go!” Victor says. “Go, go!”

They burst out of the bushes and sprint toward the gate. Victor parked halfway down the block and he’s just managed to get behind the driver’s seat before Harry pulls the passenger door open. “Connie fell,” Harry says. “Leave him.”

Victor starts the car, but waits.

“Leave him!” Harry says.

“No man left behind,” Victor says firmly.

Evan comes limping up to the car thirty seconds later, left knee of his pants ripped and red. 

“You okay?” Victor asks, pulling away after Evan gets in the car.

“Fine,” Evan says. “It’s just skin.”

“Maybe Roman will nurse you better,” Harry says. 

“Shut up,” Evan says miserably, buckling up his seatbelt and then pulling his legs up.

“Feet off the seat,” Victor says. “You know how much I paid for this car?”

“Sorry, Vic,” Evan mumbles, then, “We should report to Roman.”

“We don’t have anything to report, Connie,” Harry says.

“We do,” Evan argues. “And he only lives like a two minute drive from here.”

Victor is the opposite of surprised that Evan knows this.

“Thanks, stalker,” Harry says.

“Shut up, Harry,” Victor says, and Harry frowns but slides down in his seat. “Where’s he live? We should give him a direct status report.”

“Turn left here,” Evan says, leaning forward.

*

“What the fuck,” Roman says.

Victor has to admit they probably look pretty bad. Evan’s jeans are dark with blood, he’s got dirt on his face, and Victor didn’t notice until now that Harry has a leaf in his hair. Presumably Victor doesn’t look much better.

“Come in before neighborhood watch gets on my ass,” Roman says before they can explain, and then hustles them inside. “Okay,” he says, once they’re inside, shoes off because they’re caked with mud. “Someone’s explaining shit.”

Harry looks at Victor. Victor looks at Evan, because Roman will be the least mad at him.

“Well—” Evan says, and then falteringly explains.

“I think I was pretty clear about the not doing illegal shit thing,” Roman says. “Was I not clear about that?”

“You were clear,” Evan mumbles.

Harry elbows him.

“Vic got photos, though,” Evan says, perking up.

“They’re probably just his dad or something,” Victor says.

“His dad who had him at like, twelve?” Evan says. “Show him the photo, Victor.”

Victor rolls his eyes but pulls his phone out and shows Roman.

Roman’s face goes weird for a second. “Well,” he says. “Good work trespassing for a waste of time. Please stop committing crimes, morons.”

They’re basically summarily dismissed, after Roman makes Evan wash his cut out and gives him a spare pair of sweats to change into because he’s secretly a total nurturer. Victor lingers after Harry and Evan shuffle out, because Roman didn’t hide his expression fast enough, and Victor has a niggling suspicion.

“You know that guy,” Victor says.

Roman raises an eyebrow.

“The one in the picture,” Victor says. “You know him.”

“Old friend,” Roman says. “Used to play with Fitz, lives around here I think. Dead end, Victor.”

“Old friend doing the dishes?” Victor asks. “While Fitzy isn’t home?”

“Some people are more polite than you are,” Roman says. “Fuck off out of my house.”

“Some people not you,” Victor retorts. “We cracked this, Roman.”

“You cracked nada,” Roman says. “Guess it’s time to wrap this shit up.”

“Because we cracked it,” Victor says.

“Because the season’s wrapping up,” Roman says. “Next year you can help me train the next batch, see if they do a better job.”

“We did a great job,” Victor says.

“You did alright,” Roman says. “Now get the fuck out of here before I take your badge away.”

“Evan was the one who figured it out,” Victor says. 

“Not surprised,” Roman says.

“Mostly because he was _all over_ the idea of Fitzy having an old dude boyfriend,” Victor says. “Wonder why that is.”

“Kjeldsen, get out before I literally throw you out,” Roman says, and Victor goes, because knowing Roman, he isn’t bluffing, and he has the upper body strength to follow through.

“What was that about?” Harry asks. Him and Evan are sitting on the stairs, waiting for Victor. Victor sort of forget he was their ride.

“He wants us to train the next batch of detectives for next year,” Victor says.

“What a waste of time,” Harry says. “Seriously.”

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Evan murmurs to Victor as Harry calls shotgun and jogs toward the passenger seat.

“You’re imagining things, shortstack,” Victor says.

“I’m taller than you,” Evan complains, and then goes to get into the backseat.

Roman’s curtains flutter, and then he appears, pointing at his eyes and then Victor, and then finally giving him the finger.

Victor makes a heart with his hands in return.


	5. Roman Novák, Rookie Handler; Codename: Sergeant Spymaster

After his three delinquent detectives have driven off, Roman considers his options. 

**Option A: Pretend nothing has changed and continue the Rookie Detective program.**

_Problem: Victor is aware Roman has insider knowledge and will likely hound Roman and Fitzy until the end of time._

**Option B: Come clean to Victor.**

_Problem: If Liam ‘Big Mouth’ Fitzgerald has successfully kept his mouth shut about something for months, there’s probably a damn good reason for that, and Roman’s not going to spread a man’s private business around without his consent._

Ha, private business.

**Option C: Follow Option A but additionally come clean to Fitzy, therefore arming him against the Spider.**

_Problem: This is going to suck._

Roman groans and pulls his phone out.

*

“Hello, Liam,” Roman says. “Lovely spring day, isn’t it.”

“Just so you know, telling someone there’s an emergency and to meet you on a park bench is super fucking sketch, Roman,” Fitzy says. 

“Truly beautiful weather we’re having,” Roman says.

“Is that code?” Fitzy asks. “Let me try: yep, it’s nice out, what the fuck is the emergency?”

“Sit down my friend,” Roman says, and Fitzy huffs but takes a seat next to him.

“One of the guys got a picture of what he thought was your ‘dad’,” Roman says, because it’s best not to delay. Also best not to lead in with the fact Victor has suspicions until Fitzy’s reacted to the first bit of news.

Fitzy gives him an amused look, like he knows exactly who Roman’s talking about and was expecting this to come up. Fitzy’s not stupid, so that may well be true. Roman’s rookies sure as shit aren’t subtle.

“Brouwer,” Roman says. “He knocked three of my teeth out, you know that?”

“He’s knocked so many teeth out I can’t keep track,” Fitzy says, and Roman admires how matter-of-fact he sounds about it.

“He doing okay?” Roman asks.

Fitzy shrugs. 

“Been together long?” Roman asks.

“Awhile,” Fitzy says.

“Cool,” Roman says. “So—”

“I don’t give a shit if people know,” Fitzy interrupts. “For the record. But he does, so could you just—”

“Rookies are already excited to be training the next batch for detective duties,” Roman says, because he suspects Fitz knows about it. Fitzy laughs, which pretty much confirms it. Roman makes a mental note to have a conversation with Victor very soon. “It’s between us, Liam.”

“Thanks,” Fitzy says. 

“Didn’t think you could actually lie, though,” Roman says. “Thought you were like Pinocchio.”

“What do you mean?” Liam asks.

“Pinocchio’s—” Roman starts, and Fitzy rolls his eyes.

“About me lying,” Fitzy says.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t like hockey?” Roman asks. “Seriously, Fitz?”

Fitzy’s smile drops away. “He doesn’t really,” he says. “Anymore.”

“Shit,” Roman says. “Sorry.”

Fitzy shrugs. “It is what it is,” he says.

“Still,” Roman says. “Guy was a warrior. Fucking hated playing him.”

“He’s still a warrior,” Fitzy says. “Now he’s just waging battle with the mess I leave.”

“I’ve seen your locker, I do not envy him,” Roman says, and Fitzy laughs.

“Why you come to Minny, Fitz?” Roman asks.

Fitzy’s mouth quirks. “Detroit didn’t want to pay me what I was worth?” he says.

“Yeah, you haven’t gotten any better at lying,” Roman says. “You know the guys would welcome him with open arms,” he adds.

“I know,” Liam says. “But he hates hugs.”

Roman snorts. He can’t say that surprises him. “Sorry about the trespassing and shit, I didn’t okay that.”

“Trespassing?” Fitzy asks.

“Yeah,” Roman says. “Wait — you didn’t know? That’s how they got the picture.”

“When’d this happen?” Fitzy asks.

“Today,” Roman says. “Like a few hours ago.”

“Oh shit,” Fitzy says. “Mike see them?”

“Yeah,” Roman says. “That’s why I figured you knew.”

Fitzy’s eyes are very wide. 

“Liam?” Roman asks.

“I’m in so much shit,” Fitzy whispers. 

“You didn’t tell him about the Rookie Detectives,” Roman guesses.

Fitzy shakes his head.

“You knew about them,” Roman confirms.

Fitzy nods.

“You’re a shit liar,” Roman says. That’s just a statement of fact, regardless of Fitzy’s scowl in response. “And you totally egged them on.”

“Not totally,” Fitzy hedges.

“Totally egged them on,” Roman repeats firmly. “Come on, last week you told Victor he looked like Danish-American James Bond and sent them all into a panic spiral. Two weeks ago you told Evan I reminded you of your boyfriend ten minutes after telling him he reminded you of another rookie you once knew. Fuck you for that, by the way.”

“I egged them on a little,” Fitzy allows. “Roman, if Mike throws me out, can I live with you?”

“No,” Roman says.

“C’mon, this is like 90% your fault,” Fitzy says.

“86% max,” Roman says. 

Fitzy’s phone buzzes and he jumps half a foot.

“You’re not…actually in distress, are you?” Roman asks carefully. “Because if you are you are absolutely welcome to stay—”

Fitzy snorts. “I’m good,” he says. “I’m just already in shit for loading the dishwasher wrong last night.”

“If he gets mad about little things like that—” Roman starts, still careful.

“The dishwasher is maybe broken now,” Fitzy says. 

“…how’d you do that?” Roman asks.

“Look,” Fitzy says defensively. “No one told me you weren’t allowed to put plastic in.”

“I never thought I’d say this,” Roman says. “But Brouwer’s a fucking saint.”

“Fuck off,” Fitzy scowls. He pulls his phone out and loudly sighs at whatever it is he’s reading. “Okay,” he says. “Time to die.”

“I’ll make sure to divvy up your belongings fairly,” Roman says. “Good talk?”

“Good talk,” Fitzy says. “But hey, Roman? About Connelly.”

“What about him?” Roman asks.

“Be gentle with him, okay?” Fitzy says. “I wasn’t lying when I told him he reminds me of another rookie I knew.”

“Was this rookie like a foot shorter?” Roman asks, and laughs when Fitzy scowls at him. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Fitzy says.

“I’m not,” Roman says. “And I’m trying to be, okay?”

“Okay,” Fitzy says. “Good. All settled?”

“All settled,” Roman says.

“I hate you a whole lot right now, by the way,” Fitzy says, and then undermines it completely by giggling when Roman blows him a kiss.


	6. Liam Fitzgerald; Target, Status: in distress?

Liam spends the drive home from his sketchy ass meeting with Roman psyching himself up. 

Maybe Mike didn’t see the kids while they were spying. Probably…not the case considering the ‘Who were the idiots in my bushes?’ text, so Liam will have to discard that one.

Maybe Mike doesn’t realise they’re North Stars. Also unlikely, because Mike’s text definitely implied that Liam would have the answer to that question, so Liam…is probably going to have to answer that question. 

Liam’s phone buzzes in his lap at a cross-walk, and he glances down at it.

_What are the Rookie Detectives?_

Well. Fuck. 

*

Liam very carefully unlocks the door, cracks it open just enough to slide in, and toes his shoes off. Obviously he’s not going to be able to avoid this conversation forever, but it’s always good to let Mike cool off first.

“Liam,” Mike says flatly, and Liam looks up to find Mike in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed.

Well. _Fuck._

“Hi babe,” Liam says. “How was your day?”

“Smelled of burning plastic and teenage idiocy,” Mike says flatly.

“So good then?” Liam tries.

“Kitchen,” Mike says, and disappears into it. Liam is…very seriously considering retreating, but now Mike knows he’s here, so. Don’t let him smell your fear, Fitzgerald. The burning plastic and teenage idiocy will hopefully disguise it.

The kitchen still smells faintly of burning plastic, layered on top of nail polish remover. It burns Liam’s nose. The dishwasher’s been pulled out from under the counter, hanging open, and most of the plastic’s been chipped away.

“I said I was going to order a new dishwasher,” Liam says. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“Waste of fucking money,” Mike says.

“I make five million dollars a year, Mike,” Liam says.

“Waste of fucking money,” Mike repeats.

“How do you not have a headache right now?” Liam asks.

Mike gives him a look that very clearly tells him that he _does_ have a headache right now, and it’s all Liam’s fault.

“Not a migr—” Liam starts.

“No,” Mike says. “Fitzgerald induced headache.”

“That’s probably the plastic,” Liam says.

“Like I said,” Mike says, which is…fair.

“Sorry,” Liam says.

“What’s this?” Mike asks, and tosses something Liam catches reflexively. Liam looks down at a pin, reading ‘Rookie Detectives’, branded with North Stars colours.

Roman made badges. Roman made fucking _badges_. It is…probably a very inappropriate moment to do so, but Liam can’t help laughing.

“I don’t know?” Liam tries.

“Try again,” Mike says. “Like I’m not a complete moron.”

“It’s just something the rookies are doing,” Liam says.

“In my bushes,” Mike says.

“Our bushes,” Liam corrects.

“In _our_ bushes,” Mike says. He doesn’t even grimace. It is probably a dumb moment to be like, insanely in love with him, but Liam can’t pick them. Definitely a dumb moment to sidle up to him, but Liam’s never claimed to be smart.

“What’re you doing,” Mike says flatly.

“Touching you?” Liam says, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“No,” Mike says, but he also rests a hand in the small of Liam’s back, so Liam doesn’t take him very seriously. “This is a terrible fucking attempt at distracting me.”

“Not trying to,” Liam says, which is true, and presses his cheek against Mike’s chest.

“Why are your rookies in our bushes?” Mike asks stubbornly after a minute.

“They had a stupid thing,” Liam says.

“That part goes without saying,” Mike says. “I know rookies are morons.”

“Except when I was one,” Liam says.

“No,” Mike says. “Your idiocy was just contagious.”

Liam hides a grin in Mike’s shirt.

“Stop smiling,” Mike mutters.

“Can’t make me,” Liam says, and leans up, lips against rough beard, and, when Mike sighs and leans down, his frowning mouth.

“You can’t distract me,” Mike murmurs, but he also doesn’t protest when Liam slides a hand up the back of his shirt, or when he hooks a finger in his belt loops to drag him out of the awful smelling kitchen, and he seems pretty distracted when Liam gets his mouth on him, so honestly, Liam doesn’t believe him.

“What are the Rookie Detectives?” Mike asks, half an hour later, and Liam sighs and buries his face against Mike’s hip. It was too good to last. “Come up here, you little shit.”

“I would like to state for the record that this is Roman’s fault, not mine,” Liam says, letting Mike drag him up so they’re facing one another. “Also he says you knocked three of his teeth out.”

Mike shrugs. “Might’ve,” he says. “This some revenge thing?”

“He didn’t know you were my boyfriend until today, so probably not,” Liam says. “And before you start, we live together, you are my goddamn boyfriend, nobody believes you when you argue, not even your brother, he’s just humouring you.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Not a boy,” he says.

“Do you want me to call you my man friend?” Liam asks. “Because I’ll do it, you know I will.”

“Please don’t,” Mike says. “And I thought you weren’t going to—”

“I didn’t tell him,” Liam says. “I told you I wouldn’t tell them, I won’t, okay?”

“Yeah,” Mike says, then, “Stop avoiding the subject.”

“He says, suddenly aware he’s admitted he’s in a relationship,” Liam says, and grins when Mike smacks his hip.

“Idiots in my bushes,” Mike says. “Explain.”

Liam does to the best of his knowledge, increasingly aware how ridiculous it sounds. Like, it sounded ridiculous from the start, but saying it to Mike? 

“What the fuck is wrong with your fucking team,” Mike says flatly.

“Dunno, but I kind of like it,” Liam says.

“I don’t,” Mike says.

“Mike Brouwer doesn’t like something,” Liam says. “Huge surprise.”

He doesn’t even have to look at Mike to know he’s scowling at him.

“Next time I’m turning the hose on them,” Mike says.

“That’s fair,” Liam concedes.

*

"Hey, someone lose this?" Liam asks next practice, holding up the button, and sees three faces go pale as sheets and then start looking everywhere but Liam's direction.

Roman walks over a minute later. "You're a shithead, Fitzy, you know that?"

"I do," Liam agrees cheerfully.

"I'll be taking that," Roman says, hand outstretched.

"You know," Liam says. "I think I might just keep it."

"Shithead," Roman repeats. "You two deserve each other."

"Yeah," Liam says. "We do."


End file.
